


Checking My Vital Signs

by Minxchester



Series: Born For This [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Awkward Flirting, Blow Jobs, Bottom Clint Barton, Clothed Sex, Creampie, Dick Jokes, Dirty Talk, Dominance, F/M, First Time Blow Jobs, Flirting, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Injury Recovery, Large Cock, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Polyamory, Polygamy, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Praise Kink, Protective Natasha Romanov, Sassy, Sassy Clint Barton, Shyness, Teasing, Top Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-20 19:17:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21061823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minxchester/pseuds/Minxchester
Summary: “Aw, Cap--you never heard of the healing power of blowjobs?”Series is inspired and titled based on the song "Born For This" by The Score.[For readers who come here for specific ship tags; this is part of a multi-part series of Avengers porn. Each character is linked to multiple ships. The current installment is centrally Clint x Steve.]





	Checking My Vital Signs

They didn’t talk about it, during the chaos that crashed down on their heads over the course of the following days. Getting Sam’s flight suit back, and then kidnapping and questioning and losing Sitwell, and then battling Bucky across the roadways...those were all very rigorous distractions from discussing how they’d abruptly entered into an open sexual relationship with some truly spectacular stress-relief fucking.

And then there was being arrested. Maria rescued them, snarky and good-humored as ever and not seeming to feel concerned at all about the new, charged energy between Steve and Natasha, and she took them to the safehouse where Fury--motherfucking sneaky _ spy_\--was waiting, alive and annoyed at how long they had taken to get there.

Once things were semi-settled and less nonstop and action-packed, Steve paused en route to the living room, hearing Nat’s voice in the bathroom. It took a second, but then he realized that he was on the phone--to Clint. Steve stilled, listening to her as she gently promised that they were more than okay, and would be back with him soon. Uncertainty wormed through him again, wondering if she was going to keep what had happened between them from Clint.

Steve trusted her to have his back, he hadn’t lied about that--but until he knew for sure, then he was terrified to believe that he hadn’t cost himself Barton’s friendship by surrendering to his desire for Natasha.

The next time that it did come up again, finally, was actually a good bit later--following the mission to take Loki’s scepter back from the Sokovian lab where it was being examined and experimented on.

Steve was fighting, focused on the pure adrenaline rush and _ purpose _ of taking down Hydra agents and refusing to let himself or any of his people be injured, teaming up when possible, watching their backs to the best of his ability when it wasn’t--when he heard the sound of Clint’s bow firing, and then a thud of a body hitting the icy, hard-packed ground.

He heard the faint twang of the bow again; and then the blast of the bunker’s gun, and the archer cried out in unmistakable pain.

Before Steve could twist around and even try to locate him, he heard Nat’s voice cry out his name; a heartbeat later, she was reporting into the Comms that Clint was hit. There was a thundering crash of stone and metal breaking as Bruce, fully hulked out, took down the bunker to cover her as she tried to aid Clint.

It took a moment--one that felt longer than any that Steve cared to remember, and he could not lower his guard, still focused on using his body and shield to eliminate Hydra soldiers, waiting--Tony confirmed that the damned barrier was down--and then Nat’s voice returned. “Clint’s hit pretty bad, guys, we’re gonna need evac.”

Steve’s stomach rolled; for either of them to concede to needing to retreat, that did make an injury severe. He looked back, trying to find them through the white and grey of the trees--more than anything, he wanted to run to her side, to help her--but Thor was already speaking. “I can get Barton to the Jet. The sooner we’re gone, the better. You and Stark secure the scepter.”

It hurt almost physically, nodding and choking out, “Copy that,” but Steve couldn’t argue. Thor did move faster than he could, if only slightly. He forced himself to move, clearing his mind with almost violent resolve in order to make himself available and valuable to Tony as they worked their way into the fortress itself.

By the time they returned to the QuinJet, Clint had been strapped in, temporarily patched, and given the needed intravenous fluids. His awareness was hazy, but he wasn’t unconscious.

As they flew home to New York, Steve opted to stay by Clint’s side, making sure that his vitals were consistent. It felt as if it was the only atonement he could offer for not getting to the other man’s side in the field. Nat passed by slowly, moving to check on Bruce; he was huddled by the wall in a blanket, listening to soothing classical music through massive noise-cancelling headphones.

She brushed her fingertips over Clint’s cheek as she passed him; he smiled hazily up at her, and Steve felt almost obligated to drop his gaze, feeling more and more certain that it had just been a fluke between him and Nat. It may have been morphine, but the tenderness in Clint’s pain-clouded gaze was too intense to ignore.

It was easier for everyone to breathe once Clint was safe in the lab in Stark Tower, under Dr. Cho’s care. Steve could finally sit still--and even smile a little, listening to the rapid-fire banter exchanged between Cho, Natasha, Clint, and Tony.

His expression froze slightly when Clint told Cho that he didn’t have a girlfriend, not missing the way that the archer glanced over at Nat with a smirk over the lid of his drink, which she returned promptly. Quietly, Steve eased to his feet and left the room, his stomach once again in knots.

As he left the room, though, Steve did miss the way that Natasha’s eyes darted over to watch him depart. Clint touched her hand lightly, eyebrows raised; she smiled back at him, nodding in agreement at whatever she saw in his gaze.

* * *

Once the cellular regeneration was complete, Clint was assigned mandatory bedrest for 24 hours minimum--no exceptions or arguments, despite his best efforts against Dr. Cho.

As the Avengers sat down to share dinner in the main space of the Tower penthouse, Tony beckoned Steve over to where he stood in the kitchen doorway. “Cap, can you take this to Clint’s room?” He gestured at a prepared tray containing a much lighter meal--all power foods, meant for swift recovery from illness--that had been carefully constructed for Clint.

Steve was surprised at the fact that Nat wasn’t the one doing it; but she didn’t even appear to be aware of the conversation happening, so Steve agreed, slowly carrying the tray upstairs and asking JARVIS to let him in to Clint’s bedroom. The door slid closed again behind him, the soft sound of the auto-lock _ snicking _ into place.

Clint was sitting on the edge of his bed, shirtless and wearing sweatpants. He was examining the brand-new skin underneath the bandage that Cho had taped over the area, looking mildly impressed.

“If the doc wraps you up, aren’t you supposed to leave it covered?” Steve asked him dryly, placing the tray on Clint’s desk and coming over to the bedside. “What’s wrong, is it hurting?”

“Nah.” Clint tugged the bandage tape loose from his skin, crumpling the unstained gauze sheet and tossing it into the bedside trash can. “She just put it on there to be sure. I’m all patched up, inside and out. Little bit achy still, but nothing worse than a normal work day.”

“Good.” Steve smiled faintly. “Glad we didn’t lose you today.”

Clint nodded absently, and then pushed himself to his feet and wandered over to the tray that Steve had brought him. He started nibbling on the green beans, his expression distant.

Steve hesitated, then turned and started toward the door, unsure if Clint wanted him gone or not.

“I’m guessin’ that Nat’s failed to mention to you that she did tell me,” Clint remarked, as casually as if he was commenting on the success of the mission.

Steve froze and looked back at him, watching as the archer licked his fingers clean slowly before cleaning them with a quick dip into the glass of water, and then turning back to Steve. He smiled at the older man’s half-neutral, half-wary expression. “She’s like that--always sets the stage, doesn’t actually give the cues.”

Steve couldn’t help but let his eyes dart over the archer’s bare upper body--and then he looked away again quickly, an embarrassed flush flooding his cheeks. “I’m--Im sorry, I didn’t...I wasn’t sure...”

“Woah, hey, easy there, Cap.” Clint grinned, moving closer to him and placing a finger over his lips, the gesture eerily similar to how Nat had done it. They were always so synchronized with one another. “She laid it out for ya, didn’t she? We play wherever we want, however, with whoever. It’s more fun when we both want the same thing--like you--but it don’t matter either way. Hell, she’s still workin’ on Bruce, which...I endorse, but don’t plan to join in on.”

Steve continued to watch him intently, trying to process his emotions as he worked through what Clint was telling him. “So you--you do--and not just because of Natasha...?” He was blushing deeper, he couldn’t help it, and the words weren’t making themselves come easily.

His incomplete question just made Clint smirk more knowingly. “I do, what?”

Some confidence resurged in the face of that insufferable sass, and Steve rolled his eyes, feeling some of the heat fade from both his face, and his brain. “Fuck me, are you both toppy assholes? Or is it just because I’m stuttering so much going into this?”

Clint laughed out loud at that. “Oh, trust me, sweetheart, I ain’t a top, leastwise not compared to her. I mean, I got no problem with it, but I’d say I’m basically a service top, far as Nat likes it. Where you’re concerned...yeah, she and I are both assuming that I won’t be toppin’ anything.”

Steve had to close his eyes for a heartbeat as the words flowed through him, because arousal had just hit him like a fucking freight train. “You’re injured, though, we should--”

“Aw, Cap--you never heard of the healing power of blowjobs?” Clint shot back, interrupting his attempt to be chivalrous. Steve’s voice cut off, staring at him in confusion, and the archer just chuckled. “No, I’m serious. Endorphins, man. There’s a reason that orgasms are great for headaches and other minor shit--which this counts as,” he added firmly, gesturing at his side, and Steve couldn’t have stopped himself from looking for anything. If he hadn’t been hyper-aware of exactly where on his body Clint had been injured, Steve wouldn’t have been able to tell at all anymore; the flesh was fully intact again, no bruising or change in skin tone.

“Didn’t Cho put you on pain meds?” Steve had to ask; but at last, his voice was more amused than uncertain. He needed to get some of his own back, and being as snarky as Clint was about the best way to do that.

Clint rolled his eyes, though he was smiling. “Only until I stopped havin’ a literal gaping hole in my torso. I came off of the IV and didn’t get any more morphine. Nothing but organic, naturally-occurring chemicals in my bloodstream now.”

He tilted his head, watching Steve curiously, and then his smile softened into something gentle and understanding. “It’s okay, Cap. Nat told me all the dirty details--clearly you know how to take care of a gal. Seriously, man--I don’t know how you like labeling things, but consider her free game. You make her happy, same as I do.” He turned away then, moving across the bedroom away from the door where Steve was still hovering.

Steve inhaled slowly, watching the way that Clint’s back flexed as he walked; there was hardly a trace of unnecessary fat on him. Finally he found his voice, and Clint paused in front of his wardrobe. “You told Dr. Cho that you don’t have a girlfriend--what _ do _ you label Natasha?”

Clint looked back at him with a fond smile at the question. “Well, for a long time I just called her ‘mine.’ When we made things more permanent with a third, I mixed things up, some, as far as labels go. I got a wife, and I got a lover. Sometimes more, never less. Nat’s just...everything to me, it doesn’t really matter. First love, my forever, my girl--whatever.”

Steve let that information circle through his mind, examining it carefully and finding that it somehow made more sense than he had anticipated. “And your wife doesn’t object?”

Clint snorted. “Hell, no. If she isn’t participating, she either watches, or just takes the kids outside to play. We didn’t expect to love her like we do, but it worked out pretty perfectly.”

The re-mention of kids was something that Steve would need to ask about, when his brain was swirling less with fascination and lust. He looked back at the bedroom door, and only then did Steve realize that the light strip over the door that linked to JARVIS’ mainframe was dimmed. The AI wasn’t listening to them.

_ Nat _. Clever girl; he smiled faintly before looking back at Clint. “So what am I, then? If Natasha is everything but not your girlfriend, I mean...then I’m guessing I’m no one’s boyfriend.”

The archer’s eyes light up slightly, seeming pleased at the direction the conversation was heading. “Well, you can ask Nat about her take--she don’t mind the words, they’re just semantics. For me, though, no--you’re not a boyfriend.” His lips quirked in the crooked smile that Steve knew best on his handsome face. “But I’ve got no objections whatsoever to you bein’ a lover.”

Steve licked his lips, and he deeply enjoyed the way that Clint watched the flicker of pink, his grey eyes darkening with hope. “I don’t think I’ve got any objections to that, either.”

“Really, now.” Finally Clint turned fully back towards him, and his smile immediately turned coy. Steve didn’t think he’d ever actually seen a more clear _ come hither _ expression on someone’s face. “Y’know, I wasn’t kiddin’ about the endorphins thing.”

It had taken an explicit, unspoken, physical transfer of authority for Steve to feel sufficiently emboldened to take over control with Natasha, those weeks ago. The same reticence was not present as he looked at Clint now.

He strode forward at once, his body unyielding but hands gentle as he landed them firmly on Clint’s hips, maneuvering him backwards the final few feet that it took to put his back up against the wardrobe. The shorter man grunted softly at the impact, grinning as Steve lets him arch his hips away from the wall in invitation. “So, what’re we--”

“Hush.” Steve didn’t make the order harsh or sharp, and he savored the way Clint that immediately shut his mouth with a snap, swallowing audibly. “Unless you’re in some kind of hurry, I’m looking forward to taking my time, and seeing just what all I can do to you, Barton.”

Clint made a soft whining sound, one hand sliding up into Steve’s hair in wordless affirmation, but he kept quiet as instructed. Steve tugged the drawstring of the sweatpants loose, easing the waistband down slowly, one inch at a time, focusing on the details of the body that was suddenly entirely his to play with. He drank in the tensed lines of Clint’s abdominal muscles, trembling slightly as the archer worked desperately to hold himself still, his shoulders pressing back against the wardrobe for support.

His hip bones were equally pronounced, and Steve didn’t even try to resist; he leaned forward to draw his tongue down the line of each fine line, smirking as Clint instantly gasped and tugged at his hair, seemingly unconsciously. “Cap--shit, you--don’t gotta waste time warmin’ me up--”

Steve raised his head enough to make sure that Clint could see his eyes, cocking an eyebrow as if in disdain. “Oh, I can see that,” he replied low, moving one hand to feel the full length of Clint’s erection through the sweatpants. “Or feel it, anyway. Didn’t take much to get you here, did it?”

Clint huffed out a laugh, jolting at the nearly direct touch to his cock. “I’m a sucker for pretty people--and I don’t think you know what it looks like, seein’ you on your knees like this--”

Steve tucked the sweatpants down lower, easing them under Clint’s cock and balls, and he moved before his own uncertainty could get in his way. Remembering Natasha’s approach, Steve started at the base and dragged his tongue up the full length, then swirled it around the head, exploring. Clint made a beautiful, broken noise, which Steve took as encouragement to continue, and he carefully took the standing man’s cock properly into his mouth and began easing down, sucking lightly as he went.

“Shit, it’s been--way too long, since I had a guy suckin’ me,” Clint panted. “Nat’s a pro, but this--this is--oh, Jesus--”

It was so much easier than Steve had expected, almost shockingly so; he was able to sink almost all the way down, and between the clean, pleasant taste of Clint’s skin and the delicious sounds that were spilling out of him, it was almost downright pleasurable.

He made himself stop before Clint’s cock hit his throat, though, unsure if that was wise to attempt, his first time. Clint’s fingers slid along his jaw in response to his stuttered halt in movement, soothing, and drawing Steve’s focus back up to him. “Don’t try yet,” Clint told him, breathing heavily and smiling shakily. “We’ll get ya there, don’t worry. Nat’s the best teacher in the goddamn world. Just--use your hand if you want, I just want to come.”

Steve slid carefully off, licking his lips and feeling how swollen and spit-slick they already were. Clint’s eyes were dark and dilated; he inhaled sharply when Steve turned his face and captured the other man’s thumb with his teeth, biting down gently.

“Think you’re still trying too hard to be in charge,” he remarked, watching with delight as Clint blushed at the words, either guiltily or shyly. “Now that, I’ve read about--called topping from the bottom, isn’t it?”

Clint looked surprised at Steve knowing that phrase; then he grinned, slumping back against the wall and letting his hands drop behind him, curling his fingers loosely around the opposite wrist. “Sir, yes, sir. My apologies.”

Pleased by the acknowledgment and surrender, Steve grinned up at him, closing his fingers loosely around Clint and feeling how slick his saliva had left the skin. “You said use my hand...that’d be so I don’t taste it when I make you come, since it’s not all the way in my throat?” Clint nodded wordlessly, twitching at the delicacy of the current touches, and Steve chuckled. “Well, I’m starting to see why it takes someone with Natasha’s level of self-assurance to keep you in line. Who says you get to decide if I swallow or don’t?”

Clint’s eyes widened at that, the surge in arousal writing itself plainly across his features, and Steve barked out another laugh. “That’s right, Barton. You just get to take what I decide to give you. And you’re gonna let _ me _ take what I damned well want to. Got it?”

Not waiting for an answer to that--Steve wasn’t entirely sure that Clint would have been able to formulate words--he got right to work, gathering his spit from along Clint’s cock and using it to start stroking him more swiftly, reveling in how quickly Clint dissolved into semi-coherent moans.

Steve had never done this before, not on someone else; but he was a red-blooded American male, and he had been in the damn army--just because he had never engaged with any of his brothers-in-arms didn’t mean that he’d never seen or heard what was going on--and he knew the signs of an impending orgasm.

When Clint’s noises started changing, his words breaking apart and breaths getting more erratic, Steve leaned in and took him back into his mouth, bobbing his head rapidly and sucking lightly, squeezing his fingers around the inches that he couldn’t reach. Clint let out a fractured shout as he came, and Steve swallowed repeatedly as his mouth is flooded, tasting the salty tang of Clint’s release, and finding that he rather liked it.

“Jesus, they really did make you in a lab,” Clint panted, looking down at him with wide eyes, his chest heaving. “Gotta tell ya, Cap, it ain’t fair to look that good with jizz smeared on your mouth.”

Steve blinked and raised his hand, intended to wipe it away--it had been a lot, more than he had realized it would be, but he’d thought he’d gotten it all. Before he could, Clint had dropped to his knees, level with Steve, and the archer leaned in to kiss him, licking away the lingering smudges.

He wasn’t sure what to think about the fact that Clint’s lips felt somehow just as soft as Natasha’s had--thinner, perhaps, and the texture was different because she had been wearing lipstick and Clint wasn’t--and there was an almost-rasp from the archer’s barely-there stubble rubbing against Steve’s smooth-shaven cheeks as they kissed, slowly. Lazily.

“You’re just as gorgeous as she is when you come,” were Steve’s first words when they eventually broke apart. Clint chuckled, more so when Steve immediately blushed at what he had said. “Shit, I mean--”

“It’s okay, Cap, I understood,” Clint promised teasingly, leaning in to kiss him once more, quick and light. “Not surprising, either, since she and I work similarly, far as gettin’ off goes. Keeping it quiet and contained...but that don’t mean it can’t be hot.”

“It really fucking was,” Steve said fervently. He pushed himself to his feet, taking both of Clint’s hands in order to help him up as well, not wanting him to strain his healing body.

For a moment their faces were inches apart, and Steve felt something warm and possessive slink through him, starting where his fingers were interlocked with Clint’s and working its way into his body, down through his extremities. _ Mine _.

Clint started to sway backwards again, but Steve wasn’t having that. His hands dropped back down to Clint’s waist, and he pulled the shorter man harder against him, feeling the surprised huff of breath that Clint released against his mouth before their lips met once more. This kiss started more sweetly, slow and deep.

Then Clint pressed even closer to him, as if seeking the grounding comfort of his body heat; Steve tried not to moan out loud at the barely-there friction of their hips brushing together, not wanting Clint to pay attention to how hard he is.

“C’mon now, Cap, you really think I’m gonna pretend that ain’t there?” Clint breathed into his mouth, biting at his bottom lip in playful scolding. “I really am good to go, Rogers. And besides, you gave me a damned good endorphin rush, there...don’t back out on me unless you don’t want anything more from me.”

Steve growled softly--they really were too fucking alike, Clint and Natasha, and they both brought out a hunger in him that he wasn’t entirely sure how to define.

Turning them both around quickly, Steve walked Clint backwards to his bed, one hand on his chest pushing lightly. Clint went down perfectly willingly, landing on his ass the way that Steve had, when Natasha put him on his back in Sam’s bedroom weeks ago. “Gonna need you to stop saying things like that, now,” Steve remarked almost conversationally, and as Clint opened his mouth to answer, Steve grabbed the waistband of his sweatpants and tugged them impatiently off of him, leaving the archer sprawled naked on his bed. “I didn’t just enjoy the ever-loving hell out of my first time goin’ down on a man by pretending it was something else. You told me that this makes me both hers, and yours. So that’s the facts--I’m yours, too, Barton."

Clint stared back up at him with slight awe in his gaze, and then he finally nodded jerkily. His eyes were almost glowing with excitement. “How--”

Steve tugged his t-shirt off over his head, discarding it, and Clint immediately went silent again as he drank in the view. An almost lazy flick of Steve’s hand had his jeans undone; but he kept them on, placing one knee on the bed and slowly, tauntingly, crawling to bring himself above Clint, gazing down at him with a faint smirk as he enjoyed the archer’s reaction.

“Damn her,” Clint breathed out, eyes darted from Steve’s face to his chest to his groin, then back, as if he couldn’t decide where to settle for looking. “She told you the shit about keepin’ pants on, didn’t she.” When Steve just nodded, chuckling, Clint groaned and tilted his head back--and Steve took full advantage of that, ducking down to press barely-biting kisses down the length of his throat. “Funny, y’know, that started as my _ way _ to knock her off _ her _ game--oh, shit--”

Steve had grabbed his thigh, lifting Clint’s leg to hook it around his waist and bringing their hips flush together again. His jeans were now a helpful barrier; they muffled the sensations for Steve, just enough that he could both enjoy it, and focus on Clint’s reactions to the contact.

The other man did not disappoint. Clint shuddered underneath him, rutting his hips upward. Steve didn’t even need to look--he could _ smell _ the archer’s arousal, rich and musky, pre-come once more glistening at the slit and around the head of his cock even though he’d already come once.

“So, ‘s my turn to get fucked by a guy still wearin’ his pants, huh?” Clint moaned out, rocking against him eagerly. “She’s been nagging me to make it happen for ages...”

Steve just grinned at him, dragging kisses down Clint’s torso. “I can ditch the jeans if you want me to.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Clint threw a hand out toward the bedside table, trying to reach the drawer, but he was too far down the bed. “Lube--’s in there--"

Steve braced himself on one hand, remaining poised above Clint as he stretches out easily and tugged the drawer open, finding the small tube and then dropping it into Clint’s hand. “I want to see you. Show me, Clint.”

The archer shuddered hard, his eyes on Steve’s face as he nodded and opened the lube, pouring some onto his fingers and rubbing them together to warm the gel. “Gonna need a bit more space, to reach...”

Steve lifted himself up just slightly, shifting his weight and intentionally letting one knee grind up between Clint’s legs as he obligingly moved; the other man whimpered and rocked against him before cursing softly as Steve withdrew. “Do it, Barton. Come on.” Clint reached down between his thighs, using his free hand to draw his leg back so that Steve had a crystal-clear view of his fingers, gleaming with lube, rubbing over his entrance in a few quick, tight circles before he began to press inside.

Steve’s mouth instantly went dry, and he had to squeeze a hand over his cock, glancing at Clint’s face when the archer lets out a long, drawn-out moan. “You like this--something inside--even when you’re with Nat?”

Clint huffed a laugh, which made his body spasm again as it affected the sensation of what his fingers were doing. “Fuck yeah. She’s got a, a strap-on harness--sometimes she’s just not in the mood to be the one takin’ it--and I sure as shit don’t mind--”

Once more, Steve was momentarily speechless as he imagined what he was hearing. Now that he knew exactly what Natasha looked like in the throes of passion, he could only growl approvingly at the mental image of her pushing Clint down and taking him apart, the same way that Steve was now. “I’m going to need to see that in-person, at some point.”

Clint grinned, now working his first finger all the way inside and twisting his hand to work towards a second digit. “Oh, you fucking will, Cap. She’ll demand it, trust me.”

He had two fingers buried to the knuckle now, the third already teasing at the rim, and Steve couldn’t tear his gaze away. “You’re faster than I expected.”

Clint chuckled breathlessly. “‘S just a matter of how long you’ve been doin’ it. Early on, it takes a lot longer--gotta go easy, make sure nothin’ tears--and can’t push yourself past your pain tolerance. But I’ve been a bottom for fuckin’ years, and I know how much I need in order to take a dick--” He lifted his head slightly, eyeing the impressive bulge at the front of Steve’s jeans. “...bettin’ I never took one this big before, though...maybe one of Nat’s toys, but...”

Steve smirked, slowly reaching inside his jeans and easing his cock free from the denim. He reached up, pushing his fingers into Clint’s mouth--the archer groaned gutturally, sucking roughly before Steve pulled his hand back, laughing at the noise of protest that that earned him. But Clint stopped pouting when Steve promptly put his spit-slick fingers around himself, however, and instead watched ravenously as the blonde man stroked his length leisurely, letting Clint assess him.

“...yeah, ‘s gonna take me four to be ready for that,” Clint grunted, his head dropping back onto the bed as he started working his ring finger in with the others. “Christ, Cap, were you that hung before the super-soldier serum?”

Steve snorted. “I’ve always been _ proportionate _. But before that I was just a scrap of a thing, buck twenty soaking wet--not impressive, though not completely pathetic.”

“Not a damned pathetic thing about you,” Clint agreed, moving his other hand from his leg to give his own cock a quick stroke, before shifting down to toy with his balls.

Steve growled, batting the offending hand away and using his own to mimic what Clint had just been doing; he cradled the archer’s balls, squeezing and rolling them curiously, and Clint let out a hoarse half-yelp, hips bucking up enough that his fourth finger joined the other already in his ass. “Shit--Cap, goddamn, you learn quick--”

“Only way to go,” Steve murmured back, and then he ducked down to take the weight of Clint’s balls into his mouth. The sound that resulted from trying that was one of the most pornographic things he had ever heard, and Steve immediately focused on getting Clint to make it again.

“Cap--” Clint sounded like he was choking on his own breath, overwhelmed with ecstasy. “C’mon, I think I can take it--need you, please, fuck--fuck me--”

Steve eased away from his balls with some regret--but he could explore that more thoroughly at a later point. “You’re sure you’re ready?”

“Yeah.” Clint’s fingers slid out of his body, and he reached for Steve with both hands. Without even consciously choosing to act, Steve caught his wrists, effortlessly maneuvering them up over Clint’s head and pinning them to the sheets under one hand. The other moved to Clint’s jaw, cradling his face and angling it to let Steve lean down and press a kiss onto his mouth.

“Do we need--”

“Fuck, no.” Clint grinned up at him, breathless and unresisting to Steve’s control over his body. “Want to feel everything. C’mon, Cap, give it to me.”

Sitting up on his knees, Steve pressed down on Clint’s wrists once more before releasing them. “Keep those there. Don’t move them till I say you can.”

Clint nodded compliantly, though he was smirking like the smartass he never stopped being. “Didn’t realize you’d be such a dominant type. Gonna kill me if you and Nat team up.”

Steve’s own grin widened, half-promising and half-threatening. “You mean, _ when _ we team up.” As Clint whimpered at that taunt, Steve pushed his legs wider apart, settling between his thighs and drinking in the archer’s utterly disheveled state. “Fuck, Clint. I’ve--I’ve imagined the two of you together before, but you’re...you look even better than I dreamed, like this.”

Clint chuckled softly, arching his back slightly without moving his arms from their assigned position. It thrust his chest up, drawing Steve’s gaze; feeling liberated and eager to explore, he let his hands roam up from Clint’s legs to stroke over his torso.

When his fingertips grazed over Clint’s nipples, the archer let out a low cry, and Steve stilled, his lips parting as he watched the other man’s entire body tighten with pleasure, his fingers clenching as if to stop himself from disobeying, and moving. “Imagined us, huh?” Clint panted back, shivering as he settled again.

Steve blushed slightly, but his grin didn’t lessen; Clint’s expression, his voice, and his twitching movements all spelled out loud and clear how aroused he was by everything that Steve was saying. “Hell, yeah,” he whispered back. “Couldn’t help how badly I wanted her. And you were...you’re part of her. Wanting her was wanting you both.”

Clint smiled crookedly, his legs flexing so that Steve felt them shift on either side of him. “Then fuckin’ have us.”

He ran his hands reverently back over Clint’s body--giving another teasing flick to his nipples, which made the archer groan and twist slightly in place again, panting out a curse--before stroking his fingers along his inner thighs. Gripping his cock, Steve carefully lined himself up, almost holding his breath at the shocking heat and tightness of Clint’s body when he finally began to push slowly, carefully inside.

“Steve, you with me?” His eyes rose to meet Clint’s, finding him watching the older man with wide eyes. His fingers had loosened out of their fists, and he looked as if he was struggling not to reach for Steve--to reassure him, or to ground him, perhaps.

Steve thrust forward hard without a word, burying himself to the hilt, and Clint grabbed wildly at the pillows and gave a shocked shout, pleasure warping his features. “Shit--oh, fuck, Cap--”

“I’m with you.” Steve bent forward over him, dropping one hand to settle on Clint’s hip, and the other rose to close around his overlapping wrists once more. “Fuck, Clint, I’m with you--”

Clint bucked his hips, and it seemed to sever whatever surreal thread was leashing Steve’s already frayed self control. His body snapped into motion, hands continuing to hold Clint immobile beneath him as he began to move in earnest, fucking into the archer far harder than he would normally let himself go with a lover.

Judging by the broken sounds and incomplete, expletive-laden phrases that began tumbling from Clint’s mouth like a broken faucet, he didn’t mind the roughness of their coupling one damned bit.

“Cap--let me, please--” Clint was tugging against the retraining hold on his hands. Not enough to suggest that he thought he stood a chance of pulling free on his own, but asking. Seeking permission. Steve met his gaze, watching the way that just that simple intimacy--looking into his eyes as he fucked into him, the pace of his snapping hips almost brutal--made Clint’s eyes darken substantially, a shudder rushing through him from head to feet. “_ Please _\--”

Steve released his arms, grabbing his chin and kissing him bruisingly, biting at his bottom lip as he buried himself inside of the other man again over and over again. “Touch me, Clint.”

Clint’s hands flew to his bare back instantly, his nails dragging roughly; they were blunt, kept trimmed for effective handling of his bow, but they felt just as amazing raking over Steve’s skin as Natasha’s had. “Fuck--harder, Cap, c’mon--I came already, I need to feel you--”

Steve moved his lips along Clint’s jawline, nipping and kissing as he went, and when he reached his ear, he knew that Clint would hear the grin in his voice. “You in a hurry, Barton?” He adjusted the angle of his hips; as he had hoped, it elicited a cracked shout of need from the man underneath him. Steve had done his research, and he knew--at least in theory--what the prostate could do for a man during sex. “Because me...I’m enjoying the hell out of watching you take my cock.”

The noise that Clint made at those words was exactly what he had hoped to elicit. “Holy shit, Rogers, you’ve got the talk down.”

“You two clearly knew that I’m good for my cock, and yet you don’t respect my mouth,” Steve shot back, widening the positioning of his knees in order to let him target Clint’s prostate with every thrust forward, effectively reducing the archer to incoherent cries and moans, his power of speech seemingly lost.

“You just wait,” Steve continued, his grin turning feral. “From here on out, I’m going to _ torture _ you two. Even when I can’t get my hands on you, I’ll lean in and tell you what I’m thinking about trying the next time we’re alone--any time you’re off on missions without me, I’ll text photos of what I’m doing by myself, missing the pair of you and your perfect, tight, holes--”

Clint came again, untouched, though there wasn’t much for him to produce anymore. Steve hadn’t expected it, nearly lost himself over the edge as Clint’s body clamped down around him; he bottomed out with a low hiss, ducking in to dig his teeth into the meat of the archer’s shoulder in order to focus on pushing him through the dry orgasm without crashing into his own at the same time.

Clint made a noise like a wounded beast, choking on Steve’s name, and with every ounce of his willpower the older man managed not to shatter.

“Ev-everyone in the damn building--is gonna know what I’m doing to you,” Steve breathed in his ear, grinning as Clint whined helplessly at the taunt. “They can all hear what a good bitch you’re being for me, Barton. Bet you Nat’s grinning like the goddamn Cheshire Cat right now.”

Clint nodded unsteadily, clawing at every inch of Steve that he could reach. “She likes it--when I’m fresh-fucked--"

Steve rose up a little higher on his knees, which forced Clint’s hips to cant upward as Steve maintained his death grip on the archer’s thighs to make sure he remained buried inside of him. Clint cried out at the change in angle, his hands dropping to grasp desperately at the sheets. “Fuck! Steve--please, shit, I n-need you to come inside me--”

“Oh, there was no question of that, sweetheart,” Steve purred, enjoying the way that Clint shivered when he heard the pet name. “You need it now?” When Clint could only manage a nod, groaning incomplete pleas, Steve chuckled darkly.

He used his legs to support Clint’s hips, keeping his lower body arched up to meet Steve’s thrusts, and ran his touch roughly up the archer’s heaving torso. One hand stopped at his chest, fingers closing around the nipple and pinching almost too hard--as he had expected, Clint let out a keening cry of pleasure at the sting of pain, his legs flexing as if he was trying to fuck himself even harder onto Steve’s cock--and his other reached the base of the archer’s throat, effortlessly keeping his shoulders pinned flat to the mattress with just that touch.

“Take it, then,” he rasped, and Clint’s wide grey eyes locked onto his, something deep and hungry and grateful radiating in their depths. “So perfect for me, Clint, taking it so well for me--going to fill you up--”

Steve wasn’t sure if it was his own words, the look in Clint’s eyes, or the way that his ass tightened down around the older man’s cock; perhaps a little of everything. But his orgasm slammed through him without a breath of warning, and just as he had with Natasha, Steve all but fell forward to cover his lover as he slammed into him, emptying his release into the other man with a broken snarl of relief.

When the white noise faded this time, Clint was stroking his face and chest, whispering what sounded like a mixture of English and Russian nonsensical affection. His limbs were curled around Steve, almost clinging, keeping them pressed together as Steve slowly came down from the high of climax.

“Christ,” Clint whispered after a long moment of quiet panting. “I knew you’d be the most beautiful fucking thing I ever saw, like this, but it--my mental picture doesn’t even compare.”

Steve hummed a laugh. “Flatterer. I should move, ‘m gonna crush you...”

“Don’t you dare.” Clint held on tighter. “Need this--please, Cap?”

Steve tipped his face up, catching the flicker of panic behind Clint’s eyes, and he instantly understood, without needing Clint to clarify. “Of course, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.” Clint nodded, looking infinitely thankful, and they settled back into just holding onto one another as their breathing evened back out.

Their only warning was a quiet, robotic chirp; then the bedroom door slid open, and Natasha slipped inside before closing it again behind her. She smirked at the scandalized look Steve threw at her, setting two large water bottles down on the bedside table and drawing Clint’s desk chair over. She flopped into it, propping her socked feet on the edge of the bed; Clint honest-to-God giggled, pushing gently at Steve until he rolled away with a groan, collapsing onto his back and tugging the sheet up over their lower bodies out of propriety, more than anything else.

“Just wanted to make sure my boys are hydrated after all that hard work,” Nat said cheekily, nudging her toes against Clint’s thigh until he huffed, shifting closer and obligingly taking hold of her ankle, beginning to massage it gently. “And I figured it’d be better if Cap stays put for snuggles while I dig out the plug. I presume it is needed?”

“Mhmm. Please.” Clint smiled sleepily, peeking back at Steve. “But you don’t need to--”

Steve rolled onto his side, tucking himself up against Clint’s body and wrapping one arm around his waist. He could feel the gentle flexing of Clint’s muscles as he worked Nat’s ankle, strength radiating through the archer. Steve’s heart felt so full that it almost hurt. “Really am gonna need you to stop that, Barton. You two clearly underestimated my capabilities as far as dirty talk is concerned, but I will be damned if you can sincerely claim to think I’m not a cuddler.”

Clint quieted his protest attempts, and Natasha eased her foot from his hold, rising and bending over to press a tender kiss to his lips before she turned and sauntered into the bathroom. When she returned, she held a decent-sized plug that was patterned with swirls of deep red and royal blue. Applying some lube, she handed it to Steve, then crouched at the bedside to nuzzle soft kisses over Clint’s face as Steve reached down, gently easing it inside of the archer.

Once it was settled and secure, he lifted his head again, watching them kiss leisurely for a moment.

Then he reached out, his fingers sliding along the stubbled edge of Clint’s jaw; Natasha broke their contact, watching with a gleam in her eyes as Steve angled Clint’s face so that he could kiss him next. Then he reached for her, and Nat came willingly, easing onto the bed and returning the slightly more heated kiss that Steve pressed to her mouth above Clint’s sleepy, contented expression.

“So, not just open to sharing me back and forth, huh?” Steve asked lightly as they parted. Nat grinned, easing into the bed properly and settling back against the headboard. Clint nestled down at once, his cheek dropping to rest on her thigh, and she carded her hand through his hair tenderly.

“Unless you object,” Natasha murmured back, her green eyes darting up to meet Steve’s. Clint made a muffled noise, something between pleading and distressed, and Steve leaned in to brush a reassuring kiss against his bare shoulder, though he continued to hold Natasha’s gaze.

Seeing her face soften at the tenderness of his movements, Steve smiled, knowing she could read him easily.

“Not one damn complaint on my end,” he promised. “I’ll never assume--I know you belong to each other, first and foremost. But when I’m wanted--by either or both--I’ll be there.”

“Well, that’s kinda an ‘always,’ but yeah--got it,” Clint mumbled drowsily. “Damn, Cap, you are better than any brand of pain medication I’ve ever been prescribed in my life. And I’ve had to recover from some seriously hardcore injuries.”

Natasha smirked faintly. “My, my, have I been dethroned as queen of makin’ your world better?” Clint made a sound like a scoff or a laugh, and she chuckled. “Oh, and to make sure it’s all open and clear, Rogers--like I said, the only rule is tellin’ us. You should definitely feel free to play with others, if you want to.”

Steve smiled back at her, curling comfortably around Clint for a little shut-eye of his own after all that exertion. “You just want to play voyeur, Romanoff, don’t lie.”

Nat’s voice was dripping with satisfaction. “Oh, baby, that’s a given.” She waved her phone, getting comfortable as the two men dozed off. “JARVIS shut down the surveillance from the others--but he still recorded the whole thing and sent it right to me.”

**Author's Note:**

> In case there's a shadow of a doubt for anyone anywhere ever, Clint Barton is my life. He's also a delicious, needy, slutty little bottom bitch and deserves all the love and protection in the universe. :D
> 
> Also, in case it ever comes across that way, I write Clint intentionally with the understanding that he is high-functioning on the Autism spectrum.


End file.
